Don’t you miss the time when we talked without defaulted answers?
“How are you?”
“How is everything?”
“What is going on?”
When the notifications that we liked each other’s photo weren’t the only things that told that the other person is still alive? When we didn’t talked in empty hearts as replies to chats and stories exchanged in months and left messages with a like of a heart as a courtesy to not leave at seen. A heart that was still red, but not with love maybe with obligation or courtesy.
And the fact that we follow each other on these stupid sites where we update events of our lives wasn’t the only thing told that we were still friends.
And when our conversations were longer, lengthy and meaningful with countless laughs stifled and aloud, and less awkward pauses of silence. When we didn’t—couldn’t run out of things to say. When this quietness that existed in between was breakable? I still think of the things we used to talk about. What were they really? Because I can’t remember them. Perhaps they have stayed back in the time with everything else.
When we didn’t give the excuse of not having time? When our happiness had a much brighter colour? And our smiles were different? More real and less formal?
Oh, tell me, don’t you miss being a friend?